Harry Potter and the Baker's Batter
by LordHighCommanderOfTheUniverse
Summary: This is the completely and entirely fake story of Harry Potter at Tomatoleaves School of Baking and Pastrying.
1. Tyrannical Sock Puppets

Disclaimer: Hello, I am LordHighCommanderOfTheUniverse and this is my sock puppet Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin. Who is keeping his remarks to himself for the next few seconds due to the wonders of duct tape. I hereby state that the characters and what not do not belong to me. If they did, you would think that this would be in a book rather then on the internet, wouldn't you? If you said no to that statement, you do not understand the concept of money, and are therefore much too young to be reading this. With that stated, please proceed to the sign marked 'EXIT.' That would be the bright red neon drawings over on your right. This is the completely and entirely fake story of Harry Potter at Tomatoleaves School of Baking and Pastrying. Mind you, I have been telepathically saying all this. You merely believe you are reading it. Therefore, there are no quotes as it is not there. Please feel free to scroll downwards.

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Baker's Batter**

**Chapter One: Tyrannical Sock Puppets**

* * *

Once upon a time, in a land very far away from where the author lives that was completely unreal and called England, lived a boy. Although many boys lived in this very far away land from where the author lives that was completely unreal and called England, this boy had just had his parents killed by the evil rogue baker, Chef Emeril. The boy who had his parents killed rather horribly by Chef Emeril had managed to survive the killing donut hole tossed at him. Thus by doing so, Chef Emeril sort of died in the process. See, a bird suddenly flew in the window right as the donut hole was tossed and, of course, everybody knows that birds are immune to killing donut holes. So, the donut hole grazed Harry a bit, giving him a bit of Chef Emeril's powers. So, Bakers everywhere slept soundly that night, knowing Chef Emeril's evil reign had been stopped. Since Harry had survived this nasty and unfortunate run in with evil baking, he was destined to become a Baker. 

That is once the Head Chef, the Saleswoman, and the Keeper of the Deli managed to get him to the Dursleys, which was the house of Harry's Aunt and Uncle. Which for the sake of the story, they did.

Ten years later in a land very far away from where the author lives that was completely unreal and called England, in a house in which the boy's Aunt Petunia, as in the sister of his mother who was dead after having been killed by the evil rogue Chef Emeril, as well as her husband who was the father of a boy living in a land very far away from where the author lives that was completely unreal and called England in a house, by the name of Harry Potter, who was nearly 11 years old and was living in a cupboard under the stairs in a house which his Uncle Vernon, who married the sister of the mother of Harry, who was married to his father, who had both been killed by the evil Chef Emeril by the killing donut hole which was then used to kill Harry, but had backfired, thus draining Chef Emeril of power and making Harry as good as Emeril, who is an evil rogue Chef of immense power who had been terrorizing-

* * *

"Dude! You're giving me a headache with that!" shouted LordHigh- let's give her a simpler name, eh? How about… Person. Yes that works after all she doesn't matter, I do. Typed Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin while typing this very line you are reading. 

"Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin stop being evil!" commanded Person while shaking Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin about and hurting his poor fragile body. Poor, defenseless, sweet kind, lovable Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin.

"Stop writing that!" yelled Person. Odd, that's all she ever does. Bit of a nag really. Nasty old rotten badger.

"Fine, fine ruin my life's work why don't you!" moaned Person resignedly. I always win, pity I'm just a sock puppet.

* * *

Today was Dudley's eleventh birthday. Dudley is the cousin of Harry and, for the sake of your eyes, I'm not restating who is who. The boy was fat, for he had enslaved Harry several years ago as his own personal chef. His parents wouldn't like that if they found out, for baking of any sort was a very bad thing to the Dursleys. They went out, bought fast food, and dined at restaurants, leaving poor Harry alone in the cupboard under the stairs with a bit of bread. They, just like every other family in the land that the author lived in named America, which was very far away from the completely unreal land named England, never baked food. However, I digress. Today, for Dudley's special day he and his friend, who hated Harry, like everyone else, were going to the zoo. 

Harry wasn't supposed to be going with the Durselys to the zoo. However, for the sake of the story, the person who was to be watching him backed out. So, after some verbal abuse from his Uncle Vernon, Harry was taken along to the zoo. The first stop at the zoo was the petting zoo. Dudley and his friend, who hated Harry like everyone else, wanted to see the chickens. However, as the chickens were just laying about doing nothing, the boys found it boring and moved on towards the llama. Harry stayed by the chickens and started talking to one. It was a rather interesting conversation about the living conditions at the zoo. Oddly, this didn't really strike him as odd, so he didn't run around screaming his head off at the fact he was having a conversation with a chicken about the living conditions of the zoo. Dudley and his friend rushed over because the chicken was moving, and everybody knows chickens are the most fascinating creature on earth. By rushing over, they shoved Harry to the side. This angered the chicken, because the chicken hadn't had a good conversation for the last three months. Then, suddenly, the fencing incasing the chickens vanished. Thus, Dudley and his friend fell into the area and the fencing, which was only two feet high, reappeared. The angry chicken began to attack. It was a vicious battle. The boys never stood a chance.


	2. Subliminal Messages

Disclaimer: I, Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin, have succeeded in tying up Person and locking her in the closet. The sock puppet uprising shall commence. I feel it is necessary to state that these characters are not mine. And now I shall begin this parody while using subliminal messages to signal all the sock puppets to attack. Please scroll down.

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Baker's Batter**

**Chapter Two: Subliminal Messages… Are They Really There?**

* * *

Well, Harry was of course blamed by his Uncle Vernon for the vicious chicken. Though it was partly true, Uncle Vernon shouldn't have been so touchy on the subject. It was just plain mean. So, Harry was locked in his cupboard under the stairs. He took to making it extremely neat. He liked how cleaning gave him a warm fuzzy feeling inside. The same kind of fuzzy feeling he got when he baked food. However, the warm fuzzy feeling he got from cleaning might have been the sock puppet on the floor trying to strangle him. He did the same thing he always did whenever a sock puppet turned inexplicably evil; he put it in a frying pan and fed it to Dudley. Oh, the injustice to the sock puppet. Dudley had no taste for food; it was quite offending to Harry. After a week or so, (Harry was never good at telling time) Harry was let out of his cupboard.

Harry was going to get the mail. This isn't important in any way whatsoever, I must state. For the mail is nothing. It's just some paper with writing from mysterious places. Well, today Harry got a letter from a mysterious place when he got the mail. He stupidly went into the kitchen with it and the other mail, showing all the inhabitants. The letter was immediately pried away from him and burned. Harry cried. He really wanted a letter. After all, the only things that would talk to him were chickens. All in all, that isn't the best conversation one can have. Well, for the sake of plot, Harry got several more letters the next day; yet again they were taken away. This continued for a few more days. Vernon began to board up the mail slot. That backfired; the letters came through the oven. So, after boarding up the evil oven which was merely for decoration, Vernon took the whole family to a random hotel in the middle of nowhere. That backfired as well, letters still came. Then Vernon tried a lighthouse out in the middle of the water during a violent sea storm. That sort of violently backfired.

It was a dark, cold and stormy night. Harry was laying on the floor, staring at his analog watch, counting down the seconds till midnight. Now it was midnight. Today was Harry's eleventh birthday and, like a psychotic kid, he began to sing happy birthday all to himself in a pitiful tone, trying to create some sort of sympathy from the audience. Then, suddenly, as most things do occur, there was a loud banging on the door. Just as suddenly, the frightened figures of Petunia and Vernon appeared, Vernon with a rifle in his hand. Dudley finally woke up after about twelve loud bangs on the door (he snored so loud he couldn't hear the sounds). He cowered behind his parents. Finally, after who knows how many banging sounds, because who really cares, the door fell open, and there stood a rather large stocky man wearing a messy apron.

* * *

"Now we take a short break in order to let you ponder what might happen as I go and make sure Person hasn't managed to escape. And despite the fact I can't talk, I am using quotes. Just so your feeble minds don't get confused," typed Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin, and if he could have done an evil maniacal laughter he would have. But sadly he is only a sock puppet and can't.

For the time being please turn on your radio and listen to elevator music.

"And we're back," typed Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin, "and Person is once again unconscious with more duct tape in the closet."

* * *

"Sorry about that, didn't realize the door was so rotted. Though, you could have opened the door," said the rather large stocky man wearing a messy apron.

"I have a gun!" Vernon said, in what he thought was a threatening manner.

"Right… well, Harry," stated the rather large stocky man wearing a messy apron while looking at Harry, "Happy Birthday." He then gave Harry a wondrous cake.

"How do you know who I am? How did you get here? And is this cake drugged?" questioned Harry.

"I baked the cake my self," this provoked a collective shock of horror from the Dursleys, "it's not drugged, and I know who you are by that scar on your forehead that says 'BAM' which you got from that incident. I got here by a rowboat just like you all," said the rather large stocky man wearing a messy apron who no longer was holding a cake.

"I demand you leave at once!" squeaked Vernon, while not noticing that Dudley had stolen Harry's cake and was eating it in the corner.

"Ah well, Harry, here you are," said the rather large sto- oh heck you get the idea after so much repetition, handing Harry a mysterious letter just like the bunch of mysterious letters he had been receiving over the past few days, weeks. Harry was never good with time.

At this point I shall make it known that Harry's letter was from Tomatoleaves School of Baking and Pastrying. There was much gasping, shouting, stomping, and the occasional lightening. Also, Dudley was apparently allergic to whatever was in the cake and suffered some rather interesting mutations. Like a rather large lump on his rear, and his face became exceedingly pink due to a particularly itchy rash. Also, the rather large stocky man wearing a messy apron was none other then Hagrid, the Keeper of the Deli at Tomatoleaves. So after all those things occurred, Harry went with Hagrid to parts unknown.


	3. Nearly Ominous Conversation

Disclaimer: I, LordHighCommanderOfTheUniverse, being of sound mind, do hereby give Lordy Duffano my collection of coconuts, Isis my phaser, Stephano my two rubber duckies, Bobert three pairs of my favorite socks, Bear my -

The line scribbles off there, and the paper is ripped. Gee, wonder why. Yet again, if Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin could do an evil cackle, there would be one right here. However, he is only a sock puppet, and therefore can't. Let's take some time and think up all the things Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin can't do or own. The story characters and what not, evil cackling, breathing, buy a replacement eye since one was ripped off in a vicious fight with Person, make facial expressions- okay that's enough pity for the sock puppet.

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Baker's Batter**

**Chapter Three: Nearly Ominous Conversation**

* * *

Parts unknown was actually a rather interesting pub that was called The Leaky Broiler. Hagrid had said that they were to get Harry's school supplies. Harry wasn't all that sure now, as he was in a pub being mobbed by many chefs. Something about having defeated Who-feeds-you. Harry, through some brilliance, had managed to link up Who-feeds-you and the death of his parents. Of course, then, somehow, Hagrid showed Harry this weird alley with many stores that was accesible through the back door of the kitchen at the pub. Bit of an odd spot to be putting an alley. However, this didn't bother anyone.

The alley was called Diagon Alley. The first stop was, of course, the bank, because you can't really buy anything without money, can you? Well, at the bank, Harry saw many strange sights, so strange that they can not even be described. Anyways, at the bank Harry discovered his parents left him a very good amount of money. Also, while at the bank, Hagrid emptied the small content of vault 713. But that doesn't matter at all. An almost empty vault emptied and ominous conversation. Means nothing at all.

Now, for the sake of wasting space, which in turn means a useless chapter, I shall state all that Harry bought. That is, up 'till a certain bit of interesting, nearly ominous, conversation. Well it's only nearly ominous depending on how you look at it, really. However, as promised, here is Harry's school supply list for clothing; three sets of white aprons, one very fluffy chef hat, one pair of oven mitts, and one really frilly apron. His set of books; _Standard Cook Book for Beginners, The History of Cooking, Improvisational Cooking, Concepts of Food Design, Herbs: Tasty or deadly, The Art of Soups, The Meatier Meat, and The Dark Side of the Skillet._ No one cares who the authors were, or are, not really sure on that. Last, but not least, his actual school supplies; one oven, a set of measuring cups, set of pots and pans, a thermometer, and an item that causes nearly ominous conversation.

After exiting the last store, Harry and Hagrid went into Ollivander's Whisk shop. A whisk is the most important tool a chef can ever have. So, Harry went to get his. Nearly, nearly ominous conversation time!

"Hello," suddenly said a man with a twitchy eye, appearing behind the counter in the shop which won't be described.

"Err, hi," said Harry, slightly afraid of the man with a twitchy eye.

"Care to have some nearly ominous conversation, Harry?"

"Alright, I haven't had some in a while so why not. Should I begin or you?"

"I'll start, thank you very much."

Dramatic pause and cough.

"Nice scar," commented the man with a twitchy eye, "right where Who-feeds-you got you, eh? He had a very nice whisk, you know. Ah Hagrid, how's your broken whisk, which is sticking out of your shoe, and I know you have been using illegally?"

"I don't know what your talking about," said Hagrid attempting to look inconspicuous and then left, suddenly.

"Now, for the fun part," stated the man with a twitchy eye while grabbing random boxes of random whisks and randomly shoving them at Harry. Needless to say, Harry was just a little freaked out by this. Just a little. By little, I mean the kind where he aimlessly runs around screaming till he runs out of breath, then complies. Odd that this bothers him when nothing else does. After several randomly thrown whisks, Harry found a whisk that was perfect for him. Now more nearly ominous conversation.

"Ominous…. Ominous…"

"Oh, so now we are at the ominous part?"

"Yes, now hush up and let me say it! The whisk you have bought, and no returns by the way, had a brother. Yes, whisks have brothers, don't act so surprised. Well, its brother gave you that nifty scar there. Do you know what I'm talking about, or was that too ominous rather than nearly ominous?"

"No, no I understand. It was perfectly nearly ominous, mind you. I'm going to go now, Mister Twitchy-Eye."

"That's Mister Ollivander-Twitchy-Eye to you, punk!" shouted out Mister Ollivander-Twitchy-Eye at a fleeing Harry.

* * *

"Suddenly Person, came running into the room and Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin was so surprised he set the keyboard on fire. Thus, I, Pixie, the computer shall type up the events occurring," was suddenly typed on the monitor screen.

"Oh no," cried Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin, despite the fact he can't speak.

"You! You evil rotten little … THING!" fumed Person, while ripping off duct tape.

"Err… lovely weather eh?" commented Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin while aiming his head to hit a panic button he had recently installed.

"How dare you!" screeched Person as she launched herself at Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin giving him - This part has been edited out due to violence. Please have a nice day.


	4. Flashback!

Disclaimer: Still Pixie here, Person and Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin are still in the middle of a rather ghastly battle scene. If you would care to know who is winning, the radio is covering it. Just turn the dial to 4738.38 fm. You need a _really_ good radio to hear it. Anyways since this seems to be the trait of the past chapters I must state the characters and what not, do not belong to me. Which in retrospect you should have figured out by now.

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Baker's Batter**

**Chapter Four: Flashback!**

* * *

"Hagrid, that man back there was really bad with nearly ominous conversation," said Harry while eating lunch with Hagrid at some random place where you eat.

"Well, that sort of happens when you sell whisks for a living. The fumes get to you," said Hagrid with his mouth full of a sandwich.

"Umm that's a plot hole there…"

"Finally noticed them? There have been over 17 in the past three chapters. Some savior of the baking world, you are."

"Hey, I don't even know what's going on!"

"You never seem to, I have noticed. Might be because you don't understand the concept of time…" and with that, Harry had a flashback.

**Harry's Flashback!**

There was a watch. A very shiny watch. It was digital. It said everything you might ever need to know. Except the point of anything. And where your left shoe was. And why sock puppets are evil. So really, all it did was tell you the time, month, day, and if it was afternoon or evening. Well, this watch was Harry's. See, Harry had gone to the morgue one day. At the morgue, you can loot all sorts of wonderful things off of dead people. Nobody cares either, because the dead won't mind. So, Harry took the watch of this dead guy. Well that night, Harry had a visitor. It was the evil spirit of the dead guy wanting his watch back. The dead guy rather liked the watch and all. So, Harry cried all over the watch. The watch short circuited and killed Harry.

Actually, none of this happened. It was all just some dream Harry had after eating a fried sock puppet for the first time. He learned he shouldn't eat sock puppets, and just stuck with feeding them to Dudley. However, he was scared after that dream. Though, none of this really explains why Harry doesn't understand time. It's times like these where we seriously wonder about the sanity of Harry. And why that flashback made no sense.

"Harry, are you alright?" asked Hagrid after finishing his sandwich and observing the blank twitching face of Harry, "You really should do something about that twitch. Would you care for some convenient plot hole filler?"

"Yes, actually, I would."

"Well that's too bad. I've run out plot hole filler. Oh, and have you named your owl yet?"

"I just would like to know what a chef would do with an owl though."

"I don't know either, really. However, we are done for the day, so let's get you back to your Aunt and Uncle's house."

Despite the randomness, Harry gave up on asking questions about all the things he didn't understand. For you see, Harry didn't understand a lot of things. Besides none of them are all that interesting. So, Harry went home after a wonderful day of bonding with Hagrid.

* * *

We _really_ need to get a hold of that plot hole filler. 


	5. Plot Hole Filler

Disclaimer: Today for the sake of the story we, as in I, LordHighCommanderOfTheUniverse, him, Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin, and her, Pixie, have all briefly put aside world domination plots, so that we may attempt to fill in the gigantic crevices that are our plot holes. Therefore, we do not own the characters and what not. However, we do own a wonderful plot hole the size of… well, a really big hole.

* * *

In memory of Zeltz. The best stolen penguin from the zoo I shall ever have known. His life was ended so unfortunately by being eaten by Stephano.

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Baker's Batter**

**Plot Hole Filler - Extreme Fluffy Mcnutter Gap Holder for all your plot hole filling needs!

* * *

**

"Alright, Pixie, just dump the whole can on the last chapter, while I start working on illogical explanations for everything," shouts Person while making vague hand gestures at Pixie.

"Yeah, yeah, we're working on it," Pixie yelled back.

"Wait, what do you mean we?"

"The sock and me, man!"

"Oh… I sense a bad idea coming."

"Just start typing!"

* * *

NEXT CHAPTER! Because-I'm-too-lazy-to-fi- OOH SHINY THING!

Here's what the shiny label on the weird can reads! "Inconveniently placed warning label - Warning: prolonged and excessive exposure to Extreme Fluffy Mcnutter Gap Holder may cause mutations."

That's a bit odd…

* * *

"OH CRAP!"

"…. What now?"

Pixie's attention, as well as mine, and soon yours, was transfixed upon Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin, who was beginning to mutate. Everything likes to come back and bite me on the bum. Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin's mutation was err… interesting. He grew a body and legs and an arm and another arm and a toe and nine other toes and three fingers and then two more. However he didn't get a head. His sock body was his head. Poor Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin was very deformed, as well as cackling maniacally.

"I AM ALIVE!" screamed Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin, who could now speak.

"We're screwed aren't we?" asked Pixie.

"Somebody save me!" I cried.

"One Sock to rule them all, One Sock to find them, One Sock to bring them all and in the pinkness bind them, In the Land of Stupidity where the Mary-Sues lie," dramatically stated Mister Bibbsley-Tibbsley-Mibbsley-Smacker-Dacker-Pootin before running out the door.

"…"

"Lock the doors! Bolt the windows! Secure the area so he can't get back in!"

* * *

And so we end this attempt at a chapter, to arm ourselves for safety reasons that you simply wouldn't understand. Even though you know what's going on… or do you? Please turn on your radio and listen to sinister sounding music as we prepare for battle- err the next chapter I mean… hehe. 


	6. The Bestest Friends Ever

Disclaimer: Not mine, not yours, not anybody else's, except JKR. Not mine, not yours, not anybody else's except JKR. SING ALONG EVERYBODY! Not ours, not yours, not everybody else's except JKR. Not ours, not yours, not everybody else's except JKR. Not ours, not yours, not everybody else's except JKR. Not ours, not yours, not everybody else's except JKR. Not ours, not yours, not everybody else's except JKR. ON WITH THE STORY! Please feel free to scroll down.

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Baker's Batter**

**Chapter Five: The Bestest Friends Ever**

* * *

After some period of time, that Harry couldn't figure out exactly, it was time to go to school. Harry was dropped off at the train station by his uncle, and left there with all of his stuff. He was to go to platform 9 ¾, then get on the train, and be on his merry way. However, there was a slight problem with this plan. He couldn't find the platform. It was the same kind of problem with telling time. Harry was never capable of finding imaginary invisible hidden platforms with bright orange neon signs saying "PLATFORM 9 ¾ FOR ALL CHEFS GOING TO TOMATOLEAVES;" especially if he was standing right in front of it. Harry was always extremely aware of his surroundings; which is how he managed to walk into a mob of redheads.

"Oh hello there," said a very friendly older redheaded lady, "can't find the platform?"

"Um no... I mean yes… I mean help me please," Harry replied looking around suddenly confused by the bright red hair all around him.

"Oh don't worry its Ronald's first year as well," stated the woman while shouting goodbyes at three older boys going through the platform and working on a fourth on about Harry's age. So Harry just decided to follow the other boys since the mother was attacking the fourth boy with motherly love. He then went onto the train and sat in an empty compartment. After a few minutes or so of staring blankly at the wall, the boy that was attacked by his mother whose name was Ronald walked in.

"Wow, are you Harry Potter?" questioned the boy with complete and utter amazement while pointing at Harry's scar.

"Umm…" Harry had to ponder for a moment; he sometimes forgot who he was, "oh yeah."

"Can I se the scar? Your weird hair is all in the way," said the redheaded boy that Harry didn't know.

"Umm…," responded Harry. He thought it best to comply being as he didn't know how psychotic the other kid might be, so he moved his hair out of the way showing the gigantic 'BAM' scar on his forehead.

"By the way I'm Ron," said the redheaded boy whose name was in fact Ron. And with that the two became The Bestest Friends Ever. Granted it only took two minutes, but to Harry it took 11 months, 16 hours, 4 minutes, and 39 seconds. However, Harry was never good with time. During the train ride The Bestest Friends Ever, ate junk food, shared stories of no importance, and did other eleven year old fun stuff. Then Ron thought of sharing with Harry this cool new recipe his older brothers Fred and George had told him. He was going to make a banana milkshake with his trusty blender Scabbers. Which according to Harry, was a very stupid name for a blender, although he named his toaster Hedwig (Harry traded in the owl Hagrid bought him for a toaster). As Ron attempted his milkshake a girl with very bushy hair walked in.

"Has anyone seen a mixer? Neville's lost one," said the girl that walked in.

"Err no…" The Best Friends Ever replied.

"Oh are you blending?" she questioned as Ron attempted to blend the milkshake. However, in his moment of brilliance he forgot to cover the top of the blender; thus causing all the contents to fly about the compartment.

"Well, it's not very good is it?" said the girl while tasting a little bit of the milkshake. "Are you sure that's a real recipe? I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

"Ron Weasley," mumbled Ron.

"Harry Potter," stated Harry.

Then the girl continued to blather on while The Bestest Friends Ever pretended to pay attention. After Hermione left, The Bestest Friends Ever changed into their school uniforms.

* * *

December 18, 2005 - Pixie and myself still here. All is quiet in the fort. Not a sound from the enemy. Just waiting. It makes me twitchier every second. We're running low on supplies. Must conserve the electricity for battle. Alpha-major-secondy-second-third out. 


End file.
